Income gap fuels rise of neo-fascists, far right

Angela Merkel’s slogan in her campaign for a fourth term as chancellor was terminally bland and smug — “For a Germany in which we live well and love living” — but it did the job, sort of. Her Christian Democratic Union (CDU) is back as the largest party, so Merkel gets to form the next coalition government.

But the neo-fascists are in the Bundestag (parliament) for the first time since the collapse of Nazi Germany.

The CDU had its worst result ever, down from 40 per cent of the vote at the last election to only 33 per cent. And it looks like the seven per cent of the vote that the CDU lost went to the Alternative for Germany (AfD), the neo-fascist party, whose support was up from just under five per cent last time to 12.6 per cent this time.

That makes the AfD the third biggest party in the Bundestag. All the other parties have sworn to avoid it, so Merkel’s party will have to seek its coalition partners elsewhere.

It will take at least a month to make the coalition deal, which will probably link the CDU with the business-friendly Free Democrats and the Greens, but that is not the big story. The rise of the hard right is.

“Rise” is a relative term: only one German in eight actually voted for the AfD. But that is still shocking in a country that thought it had permanently excised all that old Nazi stuff from its politics.

And if you look more closely, the AfD’s support was strongest in the same parts of the country that voted strongly for the Nazis in the 1933 election that brought Hitler to power.

Alice Weidel, the AfD’s co-leader, has described Merkel’s government as “pigs” who merely serve as “marionettes of the victorious powers of the Second World War, whose task it is to keep down the German people.” And the party’s other co-leader, Alexander Gauland, said in an election speech last week: “We have the right to be proud of the achievements of the German soldiers in two world wars.”

The truly alarming thing, however, is the fact that Germany is conforming to a general trend towards the authoritarian, ultranationalist right in Western politics.

Each country does it in its own historical style. The pro-Brexit campaign in the United Kingdom last year was led by isolationist “Little Englanders.” Their implausible promise of a glorious free-trading future for the UK outside the European Union was just a necessary nod in the direction of economic rationality — but the Brexiteers won because enough people wanted to believe them.

Similarly, Donald Trump fits comfortably into the American tradition: He is channelling American demagogues of the 1930s. The economic situation of American workers and the lower middle class today is close enough to that of the 1930s that they responded to his mix of nationalism, dog-whistle racism and anti-big-business rhetoric.

In France, Marine Le Pen appealed to nationalism, anti-immigrant sentiment and the resentment of the long-term unemployed to win almost 34 per cent of the vote in last May’s election. She lost, but the important fact is that one-third of French voters backed the neo-fascist candidate.

The thread that runs through all these events is economic distress. The economies may be doing well, but a large proportion of the people are not.

The gap between the rich and the rest was tolerated when incomes were rising, but that has not been true for 30 years now, and patience among the “losers” has run out.

The direction of the drift in Western politics is clear, and it is deeply undesirable. The only thing that will stop it is decisive action to narrow the income gap again, but that is very hard to do in the face of the dominant economic doctrine.

— Gwynne Dyer is an independent journalist whose articles are published in 45 countries.